


min & the three wishes (or, three late wedding gifts from a mother cat)

by nyame002 (herprettysleeper)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abortion, Animal Death, F/F, Fairytale format, Murder, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Wishes, fairytales - Freeform, your standard fairytale fare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herprettysleeper/pseuds/nyame002
Summary: Two girls, a cat, and a couple of longings—fairytale style.





	min & the three wishes (or, three late wedding gifts from a mother cat)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying to write this in the style of a fairy tale; barebones, a bit rhythmic, but, you know, with sapphics. We’ll see if I succeeded! Warnings for rape, death of an animal, unconventional abortion, and violence.

There was a butcher’s daughter who lived in the valley of the great mountains. She would often deliver product to the neighbors and take meat to the market, and soon many across the village had taken notice of her beauty, and it was the subject of much gossip across the town.

But the girl had no interest in this; she instead had much love for a stray cat that would appear at her stand at the market, and she began to bring extra scraps of meat to feed the cat. At first timid, the cat warmed to her and grew strong and healthy.

The cat began to accompany her everywhere she went, and the girl was so caught up in her errands and in taking care of the cat that she did not hear the new gossip: that the duke of the valley had heard of her beauty, and now wanted her to marry his son.

She arrived home one day, the cat at her feet, when her father said to her, “My daughter, I have wonderful news! The son of the duke came while you were at the market and has asked for your hand! He was so eager, he asked not even for your name first!”

The girl was happy about the good match but worried. She knew she had come of age, having turned eighteen the last spring. What if she was not a good wife? But at the sight of her father’s joy, she felt very hopeful about her match.

She was wed at the beginning of winter to the young and handsome duke’s son Chaza, and the entire day, as she ate delicacies and danced and spoke to rich families, she worried. She knew he would expect her to consummate their marriage, and she feared it. The only thing that gave her solace was her cat, which laid outside on the windowsill, eating a portion of chicken from the wedding feast.

While her new husband spoke to other nobility, the baker’s daughter Kay, a girl with the eyes of a cat, came up next to her. “Are you alright, my duchess?” she asked, despite the fact that the butcher’s daughter was not yet duchess, as Chaza had not yet taken his father’s title.

“I worry,” the butcher’s daughter said. “I know he will wish to consummate the marriage, but I do not think I can do so.”

Kay placed a hand on her arm in sympathy, then seemed to think–she glanced towards the window, then perked up. “Bring your cat to the castle, and tell him it is the tradition of your town to wait until the first mating season of the house cat before consummation, and if that rule is not kept, there will be vengeance sought.”

And the butcher’s daughter thanked Kay for her wisdom, and scooped up her cat; that night when Chaza came to her new room, she told him as Kay had said she should, and he responded, “Let us hope the mating season comes soon this year.” Once he left, she pet the cat’s head and whispered thanks to it, for saving her. The cat brushed its head against her arm, seemingly in response.

Every night, Chaza would reappear in her room, and she would say, “We must wait for the cats’ first mating season,” and he would reply, “Let us hope that mating season comes soon this year.” She continued this as the winter grew cold and bitter, and Chaza was disgruntled, but let her be. She would visit the market every weekend to see her father and to see Kay, the baker’s daughter and the girl with cat eyes, to thank her for her advice. They would meet in the clearing in the woods when they could, and when they could not, wrote letters. Very soon, they had grown incredibly fond of each other.

But soon it was spring again, and one day her cat wandered home, and it was clearly with child.

But that night, when Chaza reappeared, she still said, “We must wait for the cats’ first mating season,” and when he left, she began to worry again. She could not keep the secret for long.

She responded the same each day as the cat’s pregnancy progressed, and she claimed that she had only fed it more as it grew bigger. She was terribly afraid; she did not want to consummate her marriage and knew she would never want to consummate it. The cat gave birth to a litter of four lovely brown kittens inside the large drawer on her dresser, and that night, Chaza returned again.

“Surely, the mating season has come.”

“It has not, I assure you,” she said to him.

“It cannot be so. I want to see the cat, and see if it is not already with child.”

“I am not sure where she is,” she said.

“I will find it, then.”

He ruined the room searching for the cat, ripping off the covers of the bed and sending servants to search all around the castle. But soon the cat had noticed the noise and let out a sound, and Chaza was led to the drawer.

“Four kittens! You have lied severely! Did you think me dumb?”

“No, you must understand,” she pleaded. “I do not wish to consummate the marriage; I cannot.”

“It is not a matter of your wishes,” he growled. “And your cat shall pay for your crime.”

And thus, he picked up the cat and wrung its neck before dropping it onto the floor. The butcher’s daughter cried out, and he began to advance on her.

“Please,” she said to him, “you do not even know my name.”

“Your name has no connection to your purpose in this palace.” And then, he overtook her.

The next day was the weekend, and she went to the market to see Kay holding an object wrapped in cloth. Kay, upon seeing the tears on her face, took her face in her hands. The butcher’s daughter noticed they were a bit cooler than usual. “What troubles you, my duchess?”

She then showed Kay the body of the dead cat, with the kittens nestled up beside it. Kay’s eyes grew solemn.

They went to the clearing in the woods and buried the cat in the soft earth there, and then, crying, the butcher’s daughter told Kay all that had happened the night before as Kay comforted her.

“This is how I shall perish,” she cried with despair, “as the plaything of a man who does not even know my name, let alone love me.”

“No,” Kay said gently. “You shall survive; I know you and will do all I can to help you out of the palace.”

The butcher’s daughter thanked her, and they walked through the wood, having a peaceful time together. She gave Kay, as she could feed and take care of them, and keep them safe from the duke’s son, and the butcher’s daughter could bring meat from her father to keep them alive as they grew older.

Chaza continued his cruelty, and soon, the butcher’s daughter was with child. As soon as she could, she ran all the way to the market, but as she approached where Kay would be, her mouth grew dry. What would she say? How would she take it? Kay wouldn’t be unkind, but she knew it would not be good news.

But Kay wasn’t at her stand at the market, and when the butcher’s daughter checked at Kay’s cottage, she found her sick, laying in bed with the baker and his wife sitting around her.

“Kay!” The butcher’s daughter kneeled down at her bedside, and touched her forehead; it was cold of ice. “Oh no, Kay,” she said, brushing down Kay’s black hair.

“It is alright, my duchess. I am simply not feeling well.”

“Tell me what I can do to help, then,” the butcher’s daughter said gently.

“Hearing your voice is more than enough,” Kay replied.

She stayed until Kay fell asleep, and on the way home, stopped by the mother cat, kneeling where it was buried. “Oh, cat, so much has changed. I am with Chaza’s child, and my Kay has grown sick, and her skin has become ice cold. I worry she will pass, and I do not know how to help her,” she confessed. After, she went home.

She stopped by the grave on the way to Kay the next day, the near summer sun on her back, and she saw a thick patch of liama flowers–like bluebells, but of a silver color with petals like silk. She picked up all the flowers and went to her Kay.

She brewed a tea of half the flowers, and knelt near Kay, half-awake and spent from sickness, and gently guided her to drink the tea. It took not an hour before her skin started to warm, and she began to sit up.

Kay blinked and when she saw the butcher’s daughter, her expression warmed. “Oh, my duchess,” she said fondly. “I feel much better. Thank you.”

The butcher’s daughter smiled, and they embraced. They talked and talked and soon it approached sunset and Kay softly said, “You should head home.”

The butcher’s daughter shook her head. “I wish I never had to. I wish I could be here with you. I want to run away and never be near the palace again. I want to rid myself of what he has made me carry, and see you every day, without having to go back to him. I want nothing he has given me.”

Kay looked at her strangely. “You have made me such lovely tea. Perhaps you should have some as well.”

And she did have some of the tea. It was earthy and a little bitter, and they spent the rest of the night talking. It was nearly dark when she reluctantly and remorsefully returned to the palace.

But that morning, when she woke up, she had bled; she was no longer with child. She felt light the whole day, as if she were a bird hopping from branch to branch.

Chaza was angered, but it didn’t matter to her. Everything was almost okay again. Yes, she would survive this.

And Chaza got older–summer passed, and early fall came. It was almost his twenty-first birthday, and he would become the new duke and she a true duchess. The castle servants began to organize the ball for the coronation, and Kay’s father the baker was hired to create the pastries for the event.

There were two thrones of gold, one larger than the other, and Chaza sat in the larger one and she in the smaller. They placed a crown on his head and the people cheered–she could see Kay smile in the distance.

“You really are a duchess now,” Kay said during the feast and dance, and they ran up to the balcony, laughing and eating sweets that they had stolen.

“I am glad for you being here,” the butcher’s daughter said to Kay.

“And I am glad for you,” Kay replied. It was very quiet, and the butcher’s daughter stared at her dear Kay and kissed her, a kiss that Kay returned.

They realized, far too late, that they were on a balcony, with the people below them. They looked over the railing, and there was a small group staring up at them, and upon seeing that Kay and her had seen them too, they began to run. They would alert Chaza, and then she would be executed for adultery, and Kay would be executed for being an accomplice.

They ran down and out through the kitchen doors, starting towards the cottage before the butcher’s daughter realized that if they were not in the palace’s dungeon for execution, then their parents would be killed instead.

She stopped running, catching Kay to stop her as well. “I must go back,” she says. “I will beg him and maybe he will spare you,” she says.

“No! No,” Kay said. “No, I–we shall run away, we will make it to the next country. We’ll be safe. They will not hate us there. We could be together, and it would be alright.” Kay sounded scared, and it shook the butcher’s daughter some–Kay had never been scared, always calm.

“I cannot let him drive us out of the valley. My father is here, your parents are here. Everything is here.”

“Let us go to the grave,” Kay said, and they ran to it, and sunk their fingers into the earth and clawed it up until they reached the bones of the cat; each bone was in the right place, but where the spine should have been, there was a knife, with a blade and hilt of bone. They covered it up gently, then inspected the knife; on the hilt it was written, “A blade for knowing a name, and as thanks for caring for me, my children, and my sister.”

The butcher’s daughter held Kay’s hand.

They ran back, skirting around the town. Upon seeing the castle, fear began to rattle her ribs, but she hid the knife underneath her skirts and kept going forward. She left Kay in the cover of the woods, so there would be enough trees to cover her.

She walked into the throne room and collapsed to her knees. Chaza was in the room, and he gritted his teeth when he saw her.

“Chaza,” she whispered as he approached her. “I am dearly sorry, I did not mean to cause any harm. Please spare me,” she begged.

Chaza laughed. “Spare you? Spare an adulterous liar? Spare a duchess who does not know her place? You have been a failure of a bride, you do know.”

“Yes,” she said, shaking. “And it is why you should let me go, then.”

“What?”

“You do not love me, and I do not love you. I do not want your prestige. I do not need it. Let me go, then. Let me and my own go, and I will never bother you again.”

“This is why you will die. Your arrogance. To think that you could escape. Or your lover.”

And then, he brought out Kay, held in place by a guard. The butcher’s daughter ceased breathing, and in her shocked state Chaza kicked her onto the side, disrupting the knife, which slid out of her skirts.

His anger exploded. “You came here not to negotiate, but to kill me. And your lover shall be killed with your own blade.

She struggled to her feet, but another guard held her down as Chaza picked up the knife and shoved it into Kay’s chest, and the butcher’s daughter cried out.

But nothing changed. Kay blinked as Chaza removed the knife, which had no blood on it at all. She seemed to have a burst of strength almost and managed to escape the guard–she almost glowed, then, and the guard holding down the butcher’s daughter loosened his grip.

And suddenly, she remembered what the blade’s engraving had said–for knowing a name.

“Kay, the knife!” and she beckoned to herself.

“You think to make yourself strong,” Chaza laughed, “but I believe I will make this enchantment mine.” And then, Chaza sank the blade into his chest; he choked, suddenly, and fell to the ground.

“What is my name, Chaza? I have been with you near a year. Tell me my name.”

But he did not know it, and so he died. The butcher’s daughter looked at Kay and said, “You knew my name.”

“Min,” Kay said.

“I never told you.”

“I knew.” Kay smiled. “You and I are one and the same.” And they embraced and kissed as both guards stared at the dead duke, unsure of what to do next.

Min answered their question. “I am still the duchess.” Min smiled, then. “I believe you will again crown me.”

And so they did, and there was another great wedding and coronation, and both brides were beyond glad to be there. There was a feast and dancing, and they still went on walks through the woods, and Min, the butcher’s daughter and duchess of the valley, and Kay, the baker’s daughter, duchess of the valley, and the mother cat’s sister, lived happily ever after.


End file.
